


To Be Brave

by UnboundByMusic



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnboundByMusic/pseuds/UnboundByMusic
Summary: Sam has loved Beth for years. Maybe the only help they need is a frat party, a sister who cares for them both, and a bit of well-placed mistletoe.





	To Be Brave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BigCatChuck19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigCatChuck19/gifts).



> For tumblr user Bigcatchuck19 and the Until Dawn Secret Santa Gift Exchange, December 2017! Happy holidays, all!

_ I wasn’t always been like this.  _ Sam watched the festivities from behind her cup, just a little removed from the fun.  _ Then again,  _ she thought, taking a sip,  _ parties didn’t always drive me to drink. _

The Christmas party, from the look of it, was a roaring success: that was the way parties went when at least one Washington child was involved. The fraternity the boys were in had an annual party before the winter break, and Josh had taken one look at the lack of holiday spirit and nearly burst a capillary. He’d begged Hannah for help; Hannah had taken pity on him, Sam was Hannah’s best friend, and that was how Sam had spent her lazy, post-final recovery period tacking up blinking lights and tossing tinsel over everything. That being said, she had had no intention of staying for the party -- that way lay dragons -- but here she was. She had a flat beer, she didn’t usually drink, and one person in particular was sucking away her Christmas cheer.

No, it -- she -- hadn’t always been this way. But Beth had changed everything.

 

*****

 

Sam had only been fourteen when she met Hannah: Hannah, the girl who hid behind her glasses and her curtain of oil-dark hair. Hannah, the girl with the goofiest laugh Sam had ever heard. They were assigned a project together in band, and it didn’t take them long to turn from painstaking clarinet scales to gut-busting laughter, shoulder-punching, and doodling on each other’s arms. Being friends in school grew into being friends outside of it: sleepovers, watching scary movies, walking to the nearby 7/11 for blue Slurpees. Sam still wasn’t sure how she had managed to avoid meeting Beth for so long -- at the time, all she knew was:  _ Hannah had a sister. Hannah’s sister was busy. Hannah’s sister was a twin. _

Then, one day, she had gone home with Hannah, and there was Beth -- so much like Hannah, but different, different in ways that  _ counted  _ \-- and Sam’s heart was gone.

 

That had been nearly five years ago. Five years of spending time with Hannah, and Hannah and Beth, and Hannah and Beth and Josh, but only feeling her heart stutter and stop around one Washington sibling. It had hurt; it still did.  _ And that,  _ Sam mused, a little bitterly,  _ is why I’m drinking.  _

“Maybe I should go home,” she mumbled to herself. Home was quiet. Home wasn’t here, feeling like her heart was getting shredded into tiny pieces.  _ I should. Being here isn’t going to make me feel any better. _

Sam knew she was right. There was a game of spin-the-bottle unfolding in the middle of the room and, of course, Beth was in on it, having fun and oblivious to the pain Sam was trying (and failing) to drink away.

 

Before Sam had met Beth, she felt like she was the brave one: she was certainly more gutzy than Hannah.

Beth blew them both out of the water. She was tough, and funny, and she threw her head back when she laughed, and Sam had never been more scared.

 

Beth spun the bottle. It whirled, a soft amber smudge on the scuffed wood floor. It stopped, pointing at a cute girl named Jessica. Beth laughed -- threw her head back, eyes shut, cheeks rosy -- and just for a moment, Sam wished Jessica’s blonde head was hers.

*****

Hannah watched Sam’s face crumple. She watched her toss her drink and head towards the front door. And Hannah decided to end this sad song and dance.

She marched over to Beth -- she was talking to a nice, kind of dweeby guy named Chris, who looked a little worse for wear -- and grabbed her elbow. “Need to talk to you for a minute,” she said over the noise. She steered a concerned Beth over to a quiet corner, and she told her everything.

 

*****

Sam was just about to pull the door open and step into the cold, scarf intact, when Beth caught up to her.

 

“Leaving so soon?”

 

Sam’s hand froze on the doorknob and her heart froze in her chest. “Oh, uh,” she stammered. Cleared her throat. Tried again. “Yeah. Not feeling all that festive tonight.” She turned, reached for a smile that seemed genuine. Up close, Sam could see each individual freckle on Beth’s nose -- they were from all the years Beth had spent outside, stubbornly resisting Mrs. Washington’s attempts to slather her face in sunscreen. Sam knew that the same smattering of freckles trailed down her throat and shoulders, sprinkled reminders, markers, from where the sun had touched her. Sam wanted to kiss all the places where the sun had touched, too.

“You should stay.” Beth’s voice forced Sam to blink out of her (slightly tipsy) thoughts.

 

“I mean...well. Maybe. I should probably go home.  _ Ask me to stay again. I want to stay with you.  _ Sam swallowed. Her throat felt tight. “I’m too tired to be any fun, anyway.”  _ It’s too hard to watch you kiss other people because I’m not brave enough to kiss you first. _

 

“I think you’re fun,” Beth said, her voice soft. 

 

Sam looked up from her boots --  _ leather, cute but practical,  _ her mom’s voice said in her head -- and met Beth’s eyes. They were... _ gentle. Warm. Something else. _

 

Beth reached out, brushed a strand of hair behind Sam’s ear. She was oblivious to the havoc she was wrecking on Sam’s heart. “I would like it...if you stayed. With me.”

 

Sam’s cheek and ear burned from where Beth’s fingers had brushed along the skin, and all of this  _ hurt.  _ Her throat was still tight and foreign, clogged with feelings she wasn’t sure how to express. She shook her head and began, “Listen, Beth-”

 

“Hannah told me,” Beth interrupted, and if Sam had felt like her heart was stopping before, she was certain it had burst, and she was dead, now. “She told me everything, Sam. Wait!” Beth’s hand snapped out and grasped Sam’s, stopping her from backing up in surprise and horror. “She told me that you -- you like me. That you have for years.”

 

Sam felt a little ill. Her eyes were bulging, her neck and back were beading with sweat. To her horror, her eyes were beginning the tell-tale itch of tears.  _ This is bad,  _ she thought, panic overriding her ability to move.  _ Oh god, Hannah. Fuck.  _ She just wanted to go home but Beth was still holding her hand, even though it was sweaty,  _ oh god my hand is sweaty she must think it’s gross,  _ and her tongue felt thick and swollen and she was choking on all the words she couldn’t say --

 

“I like you, too. I have for a long time.”

 

Sam had almost missed it. She was too busy trying to think about ways to sink into the floor and cry for a while -- then maybe murder Hannah -- that her brain took a second to register Beth’s words. And then a few more to understand them. Then, an odd feeling...hope, maybe. “What?” she croaked out, past the beer and her awkwardness and her swallowed tongue.

 

“I like you.” A shuddering breath, a nervous laugh. “I do. I’ve been trying to figure out if...how...to tell you. For years now, actually.” Another laugh. Beth looked away, a bit of red creeping up her neck. “To be honest, I always thought you were too good for me.”

 

“I  _ am  _ too good for you,” Sam replied automatically, and they both laughed again, the joke breaking the tension, surprise and relief flooding between them. Sam wondered if their linked hands linked their emotions: made them connected by more than just skin. She didn’t want to let go. Neither, it seemed, did Beth.

 

“I’m gonna kill Hannah,” Sam admitted, still laughing, the relief making her more relaxed and happy than her flat beer had ever had a chance to, Beth’s admission making her more hopeful than she had been in years. Beth laughed again and threw her head back, showing the red in her neck and her freckles, and Sam fell more in love with her like this: hand to hand, laughing, something soft and sacred in their quiet confessions. “Not if I kill her first,” Beth said, grinning toothily. “She knew I had a crush on you for years! And she knew about you, too! What kind of sister hoards that information?”

 

As they laughed again, Sam noticed something green above them, a tiny bit of Christmas tied into the frat house interior design. “Hey,” she said, in a conspiratorial tone. “Look. Mistletoe.”

Beth looked. To Sam’s shock, she reddened again. She looked...shy. “I think that’s sage,” she said, voice soft. “I get the message, though.”

Sam did, too. And in that doorway, sounds of a muffled party in the background, both girls lit softly by lights twinkling overhead, Sam decided to be brave.


End file.
